Bentley's Transformation or Punjab to Prague
by olirulz111
Summary: Bentley has just seen his gang captured by Neyla after defeating Rajan in India. It is up to him to save them but in order to do so, he needs to change. These events take place during Sly 2: Band of Thieves after defeating Rajan. All reviews are appreciated.
1. The Jungle

**Bentley's trip through the Jungle**

**By Olirulz111**

This is my take on what happens to Bentley as he makes his was out of the jungle after Sly and Murray are double-crossed and captured in India. It is the part that undoubtedly changes him, I think the game doesn't not do due justice to how important this part is in terms of Bentley's development in shedding this self conscious and shy personality into the one he has now.

"It does take a great kind of a man to crack the jungle." – Ben. Death of a Salesman by Arthur Miller

* * *

**Rajan's Spice factory, India. 11:24pm 4****th**** March 2004.**

**(From the perspective of Bentley)**

Just keep running. The safehouse is not far away I tell myself. I run as fast as I can to collect my gear, the laptop, and these devices. I need them all! They are still searching for me, their flashlights keep on searching but somehow I stay away. Oh, how scared I still am. I can't take all of my things with me, but I must! No I can't the density of the dirt in the jungle will result in too much lost energy if I take everything. What can I ditch? Nothing. No, stop. Yes, you can do it. But they need to survive! No I must do this.

Eventually after much self-conflict I take my laptop, a GPS indicator, the Binocucom and a machete. The rest, that's now in tiny little pieces along with the safehouse. All the bombs I couldn't carry have now exploded the remains of what used to be my arsenal, my technology. I can't bare to think what all of those pieces of tech are like now or where they are now. Every passing step is what I think about now, the soft jungle dirt sinking under each step I take. I try to follow the path that we made earlier on our exit but it seems to have grown back as if our presence made no impression on the dense jungle. The van is 5 kilometers away. This should take me about 2 hours if I can keep up this pace. But I very much doubt can stay it this very slow pace which I force myself to go.

Each swing of the machete tires my arm. My back strains under the weight of my gear, even the things I have with me are still too heavy but that's the least I could live with in terms of technology. The sharp blade makes easy work of the fronds and grasses that block the semi cleared pathway that we took. Time seemed to pass like honey sliding down a spoon. It was the same feeling under my feet, the heavy, honey like mud just encases my feet under the incredibly humid conditions. The rain is heard on the canopy above, but it is not cold. It is still 27.5C as indicated on the binocucom, even at this late hour.

This jungle seems to keep on closing in, like I'm being stuffed in some trashcan back at school. The darkness is just that, dark. The Only illumination is just the moonlight from above that only sneaks into the floor when the rustle of the wind pushes the branches just so that I can get a slight peak at the night sky. I can't see any constellations tonight. All I see tonight is a very bleak trek ahead.

What is this? I've only been walking for 5 minutes now and it seems I've gone around the earth twice. Time is such a cruel mistress. 2,757,789,531,000 periods of radiation from cesium 133 I think is the exact measurement. I foolishly turn back to judge my progress and only then I realise what the jungle is like. The visibility is so low. Only the machete I flail in my hand at any piece of vegetation that blocks my path allows me to inch forward that little bit more. Sly made it look easy with all this chopping on the way in, just replace his cane with a machete and that what it was like, a complete blur that I will never be able to replicate. I wish I could though; it would make my life so much easier.

What is bugging me right now is that I hold the binocucom in one hand for light and the machete in my right. It is time for me to do some engineering, jungle style. These fronds should have the strength to hold my bincoucom like a pair of goggles, it will allow me to see in the dark and I can give my left arm a break. It was getting incredibly numb. Some sap from this grass and some juices from this flower should chemically combine into some sort of glue. I apply some glue to the frond and I squish the makeshift glue as hard as possible to the side. I then hold the binocucom by the frond, it's holding firm so I strap it to my forehead. Bentley, you are a genius.

This makes it much easier now that I can see. But it only means I can see how dense this jungle is. It scares me. I check the GPS indicator; I walk for 10 minutes before I can get a signal through the canopy. I tagged the van earlier so know where it is. Luckily it isn't stolen, that would be even worse news for me. I can't bear to walk all the way back into the nearest airport. It would be easier just to let go and let the jungle take me away. But how could I let them think that I was dead. Now that they were stuck in prison, I was their only hope. They may not be as smart or clever as I am. But even after only 15 minutes in the jungle I already miss them.

Shh, quiet Bentley. I hear something in front of me. The rustling in the bushes is coming from the right side, I need to hide. I rush into the bushes to peak into the jungle and hear sound of Sly, Murray and Carmelita shackled and bound in chains by the neck and ankles like a chain gang. I dare not speak or make any sounds no matter how much I wanted to get my friends back. It would only end up with my capture. This was a marathon, not a sprint. Technically it's not a marathon, the 4.5 kilometers I have left to go are much less compared to the 42 kilometers that Greek soldiers marched to defend a Persian invasion. But, to me, this feels like a marathon. I had to leave Sly and Murray behind. If they saw me they would give my position away.

I retreat into the jungle again. I thought I would be able to cope without my friends despite our closeness but the jungle is no companion. It is just an enemy that is unrelenting. So was the rain. It was clear that I would not be able carry on into the night like some fearless adventurer; I am not a fearless adventurer despite my safari hat. I decide to set up a camp behind a waterfall, this mountainous terrain is making my short legs work harder than they ever have. At least behind the waterfall it offers some protection from the elements. There is no rain, just this steady stream of water which tastes like heaven to my dehydrated throat. Just having this clean water is good enough. But I needed some food. That was going to happen in the morning.

**The Jungle, India 7:21am 5****th**** March 2004.**

A colourful parrot is sitting by the water's edge, drinking its fill for the night. I stand still with a sharpened stick in hand. I am ready to do this. Birds like this have only two states of mind. There is, everything is fine and there is, let's fly away now. I throw the spear and it knocks out the bird from it's impact into it's skull. A kill. I never thought I could do something like that at all. I felt alive, I felt ready to tackle this beast. The rain had finally stopped so I decorated myself in its colourful feathers and kept advancing to the van. I was going to save my friends, nothing will stop me now. Not this jungle, not Neyla, not the Contessa, no one shall stand in my way!

I still had 3.5 kilometers to go according to the GPS indicator, as well as a 500-meter descent over that distance. I never really noticed the gradient that much before since I wasn't doing all the hard work. Everyone has their strengths; clearing forest is not my strength. I built a small fire by using the electricity from the laptop to create a spark to light the fire. I just had to cook the parrot; I didn't want to get any disease so I made sure it was cooked until it was black on all sides. It was very crunchy but not flavorsome. Parrots are just like that. I set off for a morning of trekking to the van, I felt ready for the day that approached me. They say that you can get lost in the jungle, but I lost something that I clung to like a scallop to a pier, like a flea to a dog, like a carbon to two oxygens. Finally I had shed my introverted personality.

The light from the canopy filtered down through the leaves and landed in weird patterns on the ground. I could only try to make out what sort of patterns that there were. Bu they were a distraction from the task at hand. The longer it took me to get to the van the longer they would be subjected to their minds. Murray would be very easy to get into but I sense that Sly wouldn't accept the treatment that she gives, he is too rebellious and strong-minded to be broken easily. Given how driven he is to destroy Clockwerk, it would take a lot more than time, hypnosis and entrapment.

Each step now in the ground feels like progress unlike that dark and wet night before me. It feels like I'm actually accomplishing something, it feels great. It gives me hope to keep going on into more of the jungle and the energy to cut through its entangled foliage with the knowledge that in time, I will save my gang. I get another glimpse of them through the bushes; they must be following a normal track because none of the guard carry any sort of machete to cut through the foliage. Seeing them again doesn't bring me a grim reality check of the situation at hand. It only makes me more motivated and resolved to break them out. From what I see through the binocucom, they don't look that fazed by it. Were they really that confident that I would save them? All I could see is Murray's neck bulging against the steel chain around his neck, constricting his breathing. All the while, Neyla was cracking the whip both literally and figuratively. I couldn't make out the conversations that they were having but from her body language, it seems that she is just taunting them. She is a piece of work.

I sneak back into the jungle after the last of the guards goes around the corner, allowing me to looks at the gang for the last time in days. I know that I can't drive the van; it was always Murray's job. Sly could do so as well, but no one could pry Murray away from that steering wheel. For someone who knows everything about the inner workings of most machines on earth, I can't operate a manual gearbox. Murray kept on harping on about that having a manual is simple. What's simple about controlling your arms and feet in quick movements like a dance on the pedals? That was still 1 kilometer away according to the GPS. But It seemed like it took no time at all. I wasn't focused on every step or every branch that needed to be cut to make a clear passage. I was focused on making a plan for Sly and Murray's rescue. The swings of the machete became reflexive, almost like me hacking into any mainframe.

But once I cleared the jungle and was only 50 metres away from the blue edges of the van, I didn't stop to take a breath. Every passing second that I wait makes it more painful for Sly and Murray. So I hack into the van using the computer to unlock the doors, Murray has the keys on him. I gently place my good on the passenger seat and start to get to grips with the system of driving. I know what all the pedals and dials do so that's not the problem. The problem is the changing of the gears, removing the clutch, selecting a new gear and replacing the clutch in a smooth fashion is something I can't translate from an image in my mind into action in my body.

"Okay, ignition on, handbrake off, footbrake on." I tell myself, going over the process I see Murray do so easily.

"Press down on clutch, gear in first, foot on the accelerator, find the friction point, aaaaaaaaand. I've stalled." Luckily no one is around to see me fail.

"Okay, try again, they are depending on you to start this van."

"Clutch, gears, friction point." The sound of grinding gears makes for a horrid disturbance to the jungle.

"Clutch, gears, friction point!" I shout, getting impatient at my lack of progress. Somehow, I don't stall. I slowly put my foot on the accelerator and start to go down the dirt road.

"Yes!" I shout as the slow progress of the van rolling down the hill tells be that I have succeeded.

"Can I get second?" I ask myself. Clutch in, gear to second, clutch out. I'm still moving. Miraculous this is!

"You are on a roll." I cheer myself up as I turn the hard right hairpin; I maintain this slow speed as I descend down the winding and degraded road down the mountain. I don't change gears at all, there is a 65% chance I'll stuff it up again and I'll have to start at square one. The sun is now high enough for me to see it over the horizon of trees. It symbolizes my new self, rising from the darkness to bring hope and salvation to everyone who sees it. Nope, who am I kidding? I'm not going to change the world in some big way. I'm just helping my friends out, that's all. The road opens up into a clear straight and I press down on the accelerator to feel the speed of the van and the vibrations from the suspension compressing and extending with the profile of the road. The sensation of speed is tremendous, even a little scary. The loud engine rumbling tells me change gears if I want to reach even higher speeds. I wrestle with the thought. I'm doing 80km/h on the speedometer and that is plenty for me on these roads. I even slow down in reaction to what speed i was going, I didn't know I was going that fast because I was looking out and over the dashboard for all obstacles in front of me.

This is going to be a long journey; from here to the Czech republic is over 100 hours of straight driving. It was going to be more than a week before I reach Sly and Murray, who knows what the Contessa might do to them? The calculations on my laptop told me I would have to go through Pakistan, Iran, Turkey and into Eastern Europe to get to the Czech Republic.

I am going to save my friends.

* * *

**Authors Note (August 14 2013): **I intended for this to only be one chapter short story but if you like this then maybe after i finish my Sly Cooper 5 Story, i might continue with this one if you guys like it.


	2. Leaving via India

**Chapter 2 – India Face**

**Punjab, India. 7:45am 5****th**** March 2004**

Driving along these roads that cut through the Indian jungle became so repetitive only after 15 minutes of driving, they only flash past in the blurred peripheral vision that sneaks in between the gap between my face and my glasses. It creates a sense of tunnel vision around the edges. It keeps me focused on this slow, overcrowded bus that drives too slowly for this road, I crawl slowly in 2nd gear behind the dirty exhaust fumes of this old bus with it's vibrant blue paint stripped off and covered in rust through many years of heavy labour. I see the people's legs and arms hang out of the open windows, cooling themselves down from the humidity more than the heat. The air conditioner is pumped up to max in the van despite it being the morning. I can't help some sort of pity for them, all crowded in there like anchovies in a tin, unable to get out. But guilt is such a petty emotion, it is just clouded reason in the form of giant eyes on a child or a sad look, one that can't help but rouse those with thin skin. I meanwhile, have a bigger problem to face.

I can't get past this bus. I look in the side mirrors and a long line of cars are following behind. I try to look past the bus to overtake it but every time a car rushes past, causing me to sneak back towards the safety of the lane. I see some old cars even try this maneuver. They barely manage to accelerate past the van then past the bus and yet still make it in front. I know how long I need, only 3 seconds to get past the bus and into the other lane if I manage to pull out cleanly from behind the bus. Here comes a left hand turn, I look down the straight road ahead. It is perfectly clear, it is the time to take the risk! I turn the wheel to the right and press my right foot as hard as I can into the pedal. The van flies forward down the road. The acceleration pushes me hard into the seat, so much in fact I have to pull myself forward to keep my foot on the pedal. As soon as I pass the bus I retreat back into the left lane. Freedom at last from the tyranny of such slow speeds.

The kilometers roll by like the wheels of the van. I think back to the jungle, how that seemed so long ago even though I was in there just a few hours ago. It doesn't seem like much now that I have passed it. But I dare not taunt my flawless memory into loading the slideshow of that night in my mind. It will only darken the situation and make me fear what I have to do at the end of this. But I can only sense the scale of it all when I cross the river and drive alongside the Himalayan mountain ranges. These small mountains may not be Everest just yet, but that's where these giants started from. To my right these mountains stand, I see the greenery eroded by years of water rushing down their sides to create small steams which gravity pulls towards the sea and the water pulls on the earth. What slowly comes over me as I pass through these long and monotonous pan Asian highways is the loneliness. I look out the window and I can only see the passers by for company and the odd farmhouse but nothing else.

Civilization creeps up slowly in the form of more towns strung along this highway that seems only crucial to their survival. My GPS indicates that I am getting close to the town of Jammu. Well, as I get closer it realise this down is much larger than I expected it to be. Not just the size but the sheer busyness of the place is frightening. All of the small shacks that bunch up together in an unplanned but ordered chaos just shows how different life is compared to mine. The unmarked road that slices through all of these houses is the most dominant feature of the city. It's not until I reach the large roundabout that will turn me towards Pakistan that I see how bustling this place is. Many cars line up to take their turn to cross this intersection; people walk onto the street, begging for food from those who pass by. My blue van stands out from all of the white and yellow that dominates this area. They all stand outside with hands cupped at the window. Waiting for me to feed them or give them money or what ever it is they want. All types of people wanting the same thing. I can't even look at their desperate faces, their ragged and worn faces that face too much but must in order to make ends meet. I look at my own food supply. I have many bottles of water, neatly stacked in the back where I would have sat. It was only meant to be enough for 3 days. We bought a 30 pack of 1 Litre bottles and they sit in the back with the plastic covering torn from where we would take one and readily drink. These people who wait outside I don't think have that same luxury.

They don't have the life that I am lucky enough to live. I have clean water, food, money and friends. On top of that, I have myself and what can only be described as my best asset. The gelatinous blob that sits inside my skull that gives me the only advantage I have. I'm not strong or very fast. I can't impress ladies or talk my way out of any situation like Sly. I life what most would consider a life of luxury. Some would say other people's luxury but the thought of such philosophical questions that have no definite answer does my head in. A question without an answer, that's just either impossible or failure. The banging on the side of the van snaps me out of my rambling thoughts. It is the banging of those people that I try to look away from but they won't stop. If only the traffic would not stop and go so I could leave as well. I reach into the back and grab one of the 14 remaining bottles of water. I wind down the window slightly but this is a bad choice as they reach into the tiny gap with their filthy hands waiting to grasp the bottle like seagulls. I try to throw it out into the open but they grab it once it's in reach. I see one pair of hands grab it like it was their own child and try to race off with it. Some people drag him back and fight over this simple bottle of water. I watch as their arguments in Hindi erupt on the side of the street. The traffic has still not moved and a crowd gathers to watch. One tiger fights with an elephant; they punch, kick and wrestle their way for a cold drink. The traffic moves on and that's what I do. I don't see the end of this petty battle that I have caused. But the answer to that question is something that I don't know and probably will never know.

The drive southwest towards the Pakistan border is something that can only be described as straight forward. It was just going at a normal speed down the road towards the border. But for me it was much harder than that. I kept thinking about that fight that I had witnessed. How such people are willing to do such big things all just over one tiny thing. Is one bottle of water really worth the effort? I can't answer that from such a position. I have never been in such a brutal situation before and I don't intend to be in one where my life is on such a precarious position. I hide myself in the world of computers, the world where I am the master and I rule. One of the few places where I can be myself. Not even here, by myself in a van with no one else looking, I can't be myself. It feels like the world is watching in, judging my every move. I see them walk along the road but to me they are all looking inside, saying 'I see you Bentley, don't screw up.' It's such a burden on me, and I'm the one creating it on myself. Why don't I just get rid of that pressure on me? The answer is simple. It is all down to me, just me, to save Sly and Murray from the Contessa. Just me, no one else is going to help me out. I have the job of saving my friends and I don't intend to fail. That is the pressure that I have to handle.

The border crossing is approaching; there is no one in the line at this time. The officials in their numbers are ready t receive me. I feel awkward going up to them with this van. I stand out like… who was that guy again? Dimitri. His clothes were truly a violation of the fashion that I know. I slow the van to the correct position and wind down the window ready to give my passport.

"Passport?" He asks as the guards walk slowly around the van with guns hanging off their shoulders from the strap. I hand it over and wait as he takes it over to the building to get it filled out. I wait anxiously as the various officials walk around the van and look at every aspect from the outside. They peer in at me like I'm a new exhibit at a zoo and stare at my puny four eyed face. The official returns from the building with a freshly stamped passport.

"Here you go sir." He says politely in a contrast to all of the other guards who just stare at the van, suspicious that I have hidden something even though I haven't. I pull away from the crossing and enter Pakistan. From the GPS screen on my laptop, I am not far from the town of Sialkot. The fuel gauge is getting low so I decide to fill up for the journey ahead when I arrive there. The heat is getting to me combined with the humidity. The air conditioner is running at max but thanks to my improvements it keeps out the hot air that seeped in at the border crossing. All is going okay by my standards.


	3. Interactions in Pakistan

**Chapter 3 – Pakistan**

**Sialkot, Pakistan. 9:37am 5****th**** March 2004**

I enter the city of Sialkot and stop at a petrol station on the corner of the busy road that I came in on. This moment has made me very worried for the last 5 minutes as I drove into the city. The van is my only transport that can get me to where I need to go. I see all of the people doing their own thing. Some others filling up their vehicles and others just walking along the street, minding their own business. I hope they don't notice me get in an out; I need to channel Sly's sneaky abilities. How does he do it? Okay, open the door slowly Bentley, no creaks. Lock the van. The lights flash on and off. Am I sure that they are locked? Better do it again just to make sure. I go up to the pump and reach the hose and place it into the car. My shot arms reach as high as possible to get the hose into the fuel tank.

"Let me help you." Someone says, concerned at my difficulties. I don't see their face until they reach in and take the pressure off the hose. At first I am unsure of whether to trust this person, do I have to perform some sort of favour in return? The click of the fuel pump says it's done and the tiger takes his things and leaves without another word. I am confused wholly by the situation but I am grateful that the ordeal is over. I walk into the station itself and walk into the hot and humid room. My head barely goes over the counter, the cashier bends over to peer at me.

"You're not from here, just passing though?" The cashier asks, taking the pre prepared words out of my mouth of how this interaction was meant to go down. Now I have to speak to this person who could easily just take a hold of me and steal the van. Or he could extort me and find the riches that Sly has. I'd crack in 5 seconds if he tortured me!

"Sir?" He asks. I don't know what I was doing in that break.

"59.32 litres of fuel at 105.99 rupees comes to 6,287.33 rupees my good sir." I say, confidently towards him, trying to assert my mental prowess despite my lacking physical prowess. He looks at me, unsure of how I did the calculation in my head. He puts in the numbers from the pump and indeed my arithmetic is right.

"You some kind of genius? We need people like you at the university." He replies. A university lecturer, not a profession I'm interested in.

"I'm just passing through." I reassert.

"My daughter wants to learn bio-molecular chemistry next year and she complains how no one in this city know anything. I only know the words bio-molecular chemistry because it's all she talks about!" He complains. I don't need to be entering into conversations like this; I need to get to Sly and Murray.

"Has she tried looking at online universities?" I ask. Wanting to get out of there before the van in unattended for another minute.

"Internet is no good here." He replies back as I pass over the correct change for the fuel.

"I'm sorry, there's not much else I can do." I reply back.

"What did I expect getting help from a tourist for this?" He asks himself out loud as I walk out of the station. I can't help but feel the guilt from this encounter as I walk out of the place. But there are more important things to do right now, like getting to the Czech Republic. I enter the van and turn the air conditioning to max as usual. I go to set off; I stall the van right in front of the attendant's eyes. The second time around I get going and work my way to the main road out of the city and head west. It is full of greenery and farmland from my vantage point. The traffic is just about average, people going one way and the other way. I now start to get into some calculations to help me figure out the best speed to drive in order to both maximize the fuel economy and the speed to achieve the fastest time to get to Sly. If they had a plane they'd be in the air right now to reach their destination in Prague. But I'm still driving slowly through the Asian countryside, not really admiring the views but looking out for the little things to keep my journey away from boring. Yes there is a purpose in it all and that is what is driving me now, but that moment is far away, very far away, several thousand kilometers in fact.

I keep on driving southwest until I change highways as indicated on my GPS. Going northwest then back down again until the greenery just, stops. The green turns to yellow of the sand that I see all around me. I know that this is where the mountains must be as the desertification that these mountains create for the lands below have hit hard. Only this sand swept road cuts through the sand. Lucky I filled up in the last town because I suspect that there won't be that many more for a long time until I get out of Iran. And that will be a challenge in itself. I don't want to think about it but I can't stop myself. From here until the northern tip of Iran, there will be desert and isolation for many thousands of kilometers. I have to figure out where to stop and sleep for the night.

The sun goes down slowly as I enter the last major city for a while; Quetta. I drive along the road looking up a place to stay when I see the airport coming up alongside the road. I am tiring fast but I have an idea and if it works than I be there faster than could ever hope for. I turn off the main highway and along the airport road and up towards the cargo terminal. Could any of those planes carry the van and me? I think while I drive up towards the hangars. This airport isn't very busy but there are some people entering and exiting. The sun is almost at the horizon. It produces this amazing and indescribably vivid orange reflection against the sand. Against the backdrop of the city, I can't believe how good this looks. I take out the binocucom and take a picture, but I take one then I take more and more and more. I think about climbing on top of the van to get a better view but from here it looks fine I conclude. It is not worth the risk. After I finish taking all of these pictures and almost maxing out the hard drive built in to the binocucom, I walk up slowly to the cargo terminal to talk to the attendant. All of my self-inhabitance is being suppressed by a feeling of anticipation of shaving days off the time it would take to reach Prague.

I open the hinged doors; only one dog is manning the desk. He sits and smokes away while sitting at his old computer, doing anything but work. It is a long and hot day again in this part of the world and he is counting down the minutes. As I walk towards him, he takes not much notice of my presence, only a brief glance is given and I shuffle towards the desk.

"You lost or something?" He asks, still not looking at me.

"I was wondering if you have any spare space on any cargo flights heading north west." I explain. He slowly puts his cigarette in the ashtray beside him and types away on the computer.

"Do you have the money for whatever you would like to transport?" He asks, slightly skeptical that I could provide the required funds.

"I need to know first if there are any cargo planes first." I stress. This forces him back into searching.

"The next one is arriving in 2 hours, it will be empty so you will have enough room for whatever you need." He replies back.

"Where is its destination?" I ask.

"Istanbul." He replies.

"Any going further north, nearer to Prague?" I ask.

"You need to get to Prague then? We don't fly to Prague." He replies. "But if you have the funds I can get you and whatever cargo you are bringing to Istanbul."

"I'm bringing a van." I reply.

"You must be in a hurry." He replies. "You can wait in here and bring your van into the hangar to keep it safe you know. After you send the required funds of course."

"How much is it?" I ask. There are no price boards hanging above. The room is dark in itself; just the fluorescent lights keeping this piece of Pakistan alight while the outside goes from that fantastic orange to black.

"Bring it around and I'll check it out, I weight the van and measure the size then give you a good price." He replies, hoping to get some late night business done before heading off home. We walk out together into the almost empty car park and he sees the van. His face lights up at the sight of it.

"Whoa! That looks great, it's so beautiful." He exclaims into the air.

"I'm just moving it for a friend." I casually reply. I don't want to tell him that I'm heading out to Prague to rescue my best friends from a maximum-security prison.

"Your friend must really trust you with this work of art, to move it thousands of miles across the world." He says as he takes a closer looks at it. He sees the flames and the Cooper logo but doesn't know what it represents.

"I'll drive it onto the weighbridge." He says.

"I've got all my stuff set up in there in a precise pattern and setting to allow for maximum ergonomics to reduce head turning." I explain.

"Do you have the keys?" He asks as if he didn't even hear what I just said.

"I've got this." I say as I get in. His face dies down from the gleeful look it had before. I wind down the window to hear his instructions.

"Okay, it's just in that garage over there, I'll open it up." He says trying to be kind but I can sense he is deflated from my rejection. I don't want him to mess up my stuff. I got the computer and the GPS balanced perfectly on each other whilst at the right angle to reduce glare. I put the van into gear and slowly edge it forward with the clutch to follow the guy who is opening up the room. He moves his arm to guide me onto the weighbridge then opens his palm to get me to stop. The turn it off and he turns gives a reading.

"Okay from this weight it should cost you $200,000 US for this trip." He says casually like he's said that before. I know I am being extorted a ton of money but I have no choice. Each passing day Sly and Murray are lost further into the grasp of the Contessa, I don't want to waste any time.

"I'll set up a wire transfer." I say getting the laptop from the van. I don't allow for a hint of suspicions to leave from my voice. He looks confused as if it has never worked before. I get my laptop open and connect to the Internet and enter into one of the secret Swiss bank accounts that Sly has. But I'm not going to pay his overly inflated figure. I pretend to fiddle on the computer to get to the bank account but I am also hacking into this ancient system to see the true figure. The ancient system means ancient security that doesn't even need much effort to get inside. I the screen is revealed and the true figure is $5,833 US. I transfer over this correct amount to the bank account of the company. He receives a message from this computer and that's all he needs to know.

"Perfect, I'll let you drive on through to the hangar. But make sure you don't disturb the other customers when they arrive, they have been working a long time with me and I want to keep the business going or I am fired." He explains in a hush tone.

"I understand." I reply as I drive the van through to the airfield. I see some passenger planes sitting at the terminal but I just wait in a hangar where the temperature is still monstrous for this hour and wait. I kill time by making sure that I charge the laptop using the plug I installed inside so I can charge all my gear. I do some number crunching on the side. I enter the fledgling ThiefNet forums to see what is happening around the world since my isolation. Not much is happening on that front. I go through some of the things that I'll have to do once I get to the prison itself. I need to get a safe house sorted and find a way to break Sly and Murray out of the prison before their minds are warped by the Contessa's hypnotic machines into becoming polite law abiding citizens. I get so engrossed in my searching that I get a fright when someone knocks on the door. I look out and he is heavily armed with bulletproof items. It must be military so I hide my dart gun and wind down the window.

"You here for the flight?" He asks.

"Yeah, what of it?" I reply back.

"We've just got a lot of stuff were taking and we won't be able to fit it all in so I was wondering if we could put some stuff into your van until we arrive at the destination. Just some crates and things like that." He replies.

"I'll open it up." I say as I open the back door and him and his friend hold a large container of something that they place into the back of the van. The suspension sinks down to the ground under the weight of it. They have a truck waiting outside with other goods on it to load into the plane. I get scared when I see the amount of people that will be joining me on this night flight. I expected it to be just me on this flight and this extra company is going to make it either awkward or completely frightening. I just keep to myself but I see them look at me every so often as if to make sure I'm not doing anything that might upset them.

The plane lands and arrives in front of the hangar, only the flood lights keep it lit and the lights embedded in the tarmac show the path that the planes have to take. The rear hatch drops down and giant crates the size of the van roll down. They look like boxes full of goods all tied down in some mesh that bundles it all together. They work in teams that have done this work before but I just sit there watching it all. I can't offer any sort of physical strength to aid them in whatever endeavours that they may pursue. I can only think about what they may be all doing in their sand coloured military uniforms loading on what I presume to be weapons and ammunition onto this civilian transport plane. I underestimated the way that they work together as they efficiently load all of the crates onto the plane. It is now turn for me with the van. One of them comes up to give me the instruction.

"Your turn turtle." He says with all of the other lining up to watch me go into the plane. I nervously put the van in gear and drive up slowly to the base of the van with their pairs of eyes just gazing at me like they are giving me an ironic guard of honour. I don't feel honoured right now, I feel grateful but not honoured. I give it more power up the slope and stop it into the plane where some people are waiting to tie it down to the bottom of the plane. Once the engine is stopped, they get to work while I just wait for expected further instructions.

"You gonna come join us?" One asks as they all get together to move to the front of the plane where some seats are.

"I'll just stay here if that's okay." I reply. They are an unknown quantity and I don't know what they may do with me in a confined space for a few hours.

"Have fun in the dark turtle." He jovially says as he parades himself down to his buddies.

"And you have fun… doing whatever you want to do… in there." I try to make a comeback but the sound does not propagate far enough or loud enough to be heard by the other travelling party of warriors, mercenaries or soldiers up front. There is no telling what they might be doing here. The back of the plane is raised up and the darkness closes in. The van's lights are the only things that provide illumination to this cylindrical cabin. I feel the movement of the plane as it moves slowly towards the runway. I put on the seatbelt for the take off, prepared for the g force to put me into the seat cushion. Sure enough, like the sun rising or the universal gravitational constant being 6.67x10-34, the plane accelerates as the propellers spin up to maximum speed. I wait for the plane to tilt back and go into the night sky that is blocked from my view. I go onto the computer to check that it's alright. The screen saver picture of us together comes up and I can only feel sad that they are not here with me right now but at the same time it shows to me that we are a team, a gang that cannot be separated. Neyla will be no obstacle for me! I will storm the prison and take them back. Maybe not with so much bravado but nevertheless I will figure out a way to get them out or die trying.


	4. Altercations over Iran

**Chapter 4 – Altercations over Iran**

**Over Iran, 9:43pm 5****th**** March 2004.**

All night long I try to get some sleep, nothing really comes through for I am thinking too much about Sly and Murray. About the pain and suffering that they will be feeling right now as that whip comes closer to their backs. Images pop up in my head of ancient Egyptians building the pyramids and the cat o nine tails comes out and bleeds their sun kissed backs to mix with the sweat to sting even more. The pain is transferred to me, on the inside of my shell I feel a simulated pain that only lasts for a brief second as my mind creates a memory of the moment, a painful one but yet it is a memory that will undoubtedly be caught in my web of neurons and synaptic fibers that makes up my brain. I try to get this horrible image that is the stuff of implorable nightmares out of my head but I just can't do it. Why can't I get rid of it?! Cause I'm just too smart and my memory's too good!

Whoa, was that me when I'm aggressive? I need to calm down before it leaves my mouth and I get in trouble. Despite my efforts to make time fly it still goes the same speed it always arbitrarily goes despite the fact that time up here is slightly slower than when it is down on Earth. Not by any measurable difference that we should be up here and become time travellers but the science doesn't lie.

Suddenly I feel something vibrating in time. Not from the plane but something else, it's going in a rhythmic fashion but quickly. Don't tell me Dimitri has a club here too. I open the door a little bit but the sound of those propellers drowns out any discernable vibrations that I felt before. I get out of the van just to have a look around. I take out the binocucom and set it to night vision and take a look around this cargo hold. I shuffle and move myself around the tightly packed goods. But first I take a look for the first time at what they have put inside the van. I go back inside the van and open the case. I don't know why I didn't look in it before, such a curious package that needs to be explored. A perfect example of quantum mechanics sits inside this plastic covered but secure case. It has an electronic lock, no match for me. Like a reflex action I open it with ease to reveal, another case. Smaller than the last one but this one is heavily secured with dead bolts and even a vacuum lock. Whatever is inside is either very expensive or important, and I'm going to find out what it is.

If only Sly were here, he would know what to do and use his cunning and thieving knowledge to get it open. I may know many things but performing them is an entirely different thing. My hands are not as steady or as strong as Sly's. They can't rip these bolts open like Murray could. I realise now how useless we are without each other. As a gang we complement each other's skills, but take away the parts by themselves and we don't become as strong as before. That is why I need to get to them fast. I can't make this plane go any faster, I can't fly it or fit rockets to it while in the air. All I can do is stare at this metal box that sits in the van, a stranger friend in my world right now.

"You like it, don't you." A voice shouts over the noise, leaning against the door. I get spooked by this sudden section of speech. I can't hide what I have done; he can see it is as well. This mercenary, soldier or warrior just watches in at me, I don't think I'm about to die which is a good thing.

"Don't sit there and be silent, It isn't in our best interests to murder you." The wolf says reassuringly. I don't believe him, with all this weaponry in this plane he certainly isn't without options of death.

"You have these computers and gadgets of yours sitting around everywhere in your van and you haven't even figured out who we are?" He asks rhetorically. "Take a picture of me, do it now." He says. I reach for the binocucom to take a photo but I look around to check I'm not being ambushed. I turn to the back of the van and to the other window.

"It's just me in here, the rest are all drowned in heavy bass and some 18 years scotch whiskey." He reassures once again. "Come take it, I'll pose." I get the binocucom in position and he turns half side on and turns his head towards me in an aggressive stance. The flash erupts in the room and he relaxes.

"I'll let you do your thing then." He says. I upload the picture to the computer and do a facial recognition on this photo. It takes a small amount of time on this slow laptop, I mean slow compared with my other computer, but I find the results soon enough. They are half taunting but fully right. Several results point to Sly but they are wrong, how dare they compare this unknown thug to my best friend. Sure, they do look similar with the grey fur and face shape but nothing else. I don't know how I didn't spot it before.

"Did you find it?" He asks. I try to open my moth but he cuts me off. "Then you know who we are and know what's inside the box."

I think about what the possible answer might be, but I think I know what it must be.

"It's some carbon in a lattice structure that's been pressurized and heated over millions of years." I reply, he doesn't take that showing off to well, I see a smirk on his face but he plays it down.

"In English." He says more forcefully.

"The world's second largest diamond." I reply.

"Interesting that you mention that Bentley." He starts, but he knows my name!

"We've been trying to get our hands on the top 10 in the world just to, you know, show them off to show how good we are and to tell people; 'Hey, look at the size of those diamonds.' So we know that you know where it is. Maybe we can work out something of a deal." He says, now leaning on the van door, sticking his smug head inside of the van, giving me this weird look that Sly would give when he is confident but smug that I have to do something that's awkward or embarrassing for me.

"Even if you know where it is, you would never get inside." I say back, trying to remember the location and pictures of the Cooper vault that I have. That's something we have to do in time but not now when Clockwerk is in danger of being brought back to life.

"Nothing has stopped us so far. We are the best." He gloats. That is a cruel misconception that he has. Sly would not be happy.

"You won't be doing anything if you're all drunk and deaf." I taunt back to him.

"We're just taking a break for a while, you know. Just relaxing on the shores of two seas separated by an iths… isss."

"Isthmus." I reply to help him finish his gloating and bravado.

"Right, and we'll be chilling all together because we're tight. Tighter than these straps holding down your van." He brags. Oh what poor knowledge he has, no humility he has either.

"You don't know the meaning." I reply in a slightly threatening undertone. He gets unsettled briefly but returns to his objective.

"About the diamond, how much would you like, 500 million, 700 million?" He starts.

"I'm not the one you should be talking to." I say, no price would sway me. Money means nothing when you already have a lot of it.

"So where is the raccoon then? Sly has been so elusive and now by fate, we have a foot in the door." He gloats again.

"Why would I tell you?" I say.

"Because, unlike your 'honourable' friend, we like to do things that allow us to get what he want fast." He warns. I fear for my life but I need to stay alive to save Sly, it is what I must do. I turn back to my computer and quickly look up the flight details. It says that we are over northern Iran and going on time. As I do this I quickly check to see what he is doing. He is searching through some of the crates for something. I need to do something to make him go away, but not permanently, preferably. I quickly take a hold of my dart gun and aim as he is stationary, looking deep inside of one of the crates, his hands dangling inside and his legs in midair as he half dives inside. A dart is inside ready to put him to sleep. I launch it at him, aiming for the side of his body that rests on the side the crate. It is on target but I can only see the case for the item come out of the box as I shoot and block the dart. It sticks perfectly into the bottom of the box. He doesn't see it as he grips it from the side with both hands, ready to give whatever torture he desires. I reload the dart gun for a second shot but I don't get a chance to aim before he turns around

"This is what my friends call the 8th circle of hell. We usually give this to the toughest and most stubborn of individuals, ones that don't and won't give us information. You will most likely die from this torture so by telling us the location of this diamond we will stop and let you go wherever you are off to with your van." He says. I feel a cold sweat come beading from by palms and the adrenaline high kick in.

"Fine, it's on Kaine Island in the South Pacific." I reply, quaking and crackling like a toothpick under pressure. He seems skeptical, I still fear for myself.

"Show me where it is on the laptop." He demands and he reaches inside of the van. I quickly type as fast as I can and show him the location on the map. To him it's looks like an empty sea because I have removed it's existence from the public eye.

"I removed any trace of it but it's there, I promise." I say, still stuttering swiftly to protect myself.

"I was just starting to like you." He sarcastically says opening up the box. He looks down with a smile at the object inside and it's the opportunity I take, albeit without thinking. I grab the dart gun with one hand and aim for his head. It goes right into his left eye. He drops the box right where he stands and moves his hands to his eyes trying to get the dart out of it. He pulls it out and all of the gelatinous parts of his eye fall down to the ground, creating a puddle of blood and gunk that I don't want to step on but will cover the bottom of the plane as it moves around in the air. More blood comes rushing out of his eye. I didn't mean for this to happen, I just wanted him to go to sleep literally, not metaphorically. Now I have to cringe as this… I don't know anymore, the perception changes dramatically now that I have shot out his eyes accidentally. I don't know what to make of him now that he is writhing around on the floor with his hands trying to stop the bleeding. He tries to muffle his own screaming but the sound of his screaming isn't loud enough to be overheard by the rest of them up at the front. I don't get out to help, the shock overrides me and I don't want to have to show myself to him. I can't save him now; I don't have any bandages or blood-clotting agent that can save him. I can't make a bionic eye to save him. I reload the gun for the last time and shot him to sleep so that he will feel no more pain for now. I think that it is the best I can do from my position.

I take a proverbial step back to realise what has just happened. The adrenaline is still pumping around me as I scrabble back as far away from the sleeping wolf whose eye is just a pool of blood that rests in the socket. What do I tell the others, do I even tell them? They'll easily kill me if they see this. I wait for myself to calm down so I can assess the situation. I slowly reach my head out of the window to look down at the grey furred mercenary thief. I still recoil at the sight even though I have seen it before. The plane continues to hum, the faint vibrations of a speaker still rumble through the van, and I just sit motionless. But I have to do something quickly before I get discovered. I go to the other door and get out that way, holding the binocucom in one hand to see around. I walk around the back of the van and see his hanging face that is sleeping now, free from pain. I stay as far away from him as I look around at the crates, there has to be some medical supplies in here. The binocucom picks up a faint heat signature in a shape of a cross from the different coloured paint it has on the front, but it's on the other side, nearby to the door that leads to the passenger cabin. I move around the edge of the plane, hugging the cold aluminum walls that separate me and temperatures below -50 Celsius. I imagine how Sly does this as I strafe my way along the edge. The way he keeps his balance centered towards the wall slightly, the way that he uses his front arm to reach around the wall and hold on if necessary. Just these small things I notice him do seem to make the biggest of differences. I try to emulate him but my unwieldy shell and stout stature make it harder for me to turn the mental image into action. The powerful rhythmic vibrations now manifest themselves as sound as I get closer. They really are thumping in that room in front of me, but it is the perfect cover to get in quickly. I move inside to the centre and find the box I came for. It doesn't have much, just some bandages and painkillers but it will do. I start to make my way to the back but I hear the thumping stop as I get to the side of the plane. I hide behind one of the crates just incase someone tries to get out. I wait for what seems like an eternity for any sign of movement from the door but nothing happens. I cautiously sneak back to the van and to the sleeping wolf. I see the pool of blood that is surrounding him, the blood in the eye has clotted up now, but the gelatinous cornea is still resting lightly on the ground beside his semi-cupped hand.

I take out some cotton balls and tilt his head so it faces upwards, like he is resting at a beach, and wipe the blood from his face. I then take the bandage and wrap it around his head to cover his eye. I know I have only about 2 minutes before he wakes up again, so I ready the needles with their pain killing ingredients inside them, just in case he reawakes with screams and shouts. I go back into the van briefly after having cleaned off some of the blood myself using one of part of one of the bottles of water and drying it off with what cotton balls that were left. I quickly look up the location of the plane, still about one hour away from Istanbul so I can't just keep him quiet for the whole trip otherwise they will notice and look for him. I quickly wait by the frozen body with the needle in one hand ready to pierce his skin again, it is what must be done. I see his eye open slowly, he puts his hand where his other eye is meant to be and feels cotton and nothing else. I sit motionless next to him, waiting for the screams to start, but once he lowers his arms to lie beside him I relax my own raised arm.

"How long have I been here?" He asks, not facing me but staring at the ceiling with his one eye. I am surprised that he hasn't given any regard to the pain at all, no visible contorting of the face, no shaking, just calmness. I still silent, I don't know if he has seen me yet or is really impaired by the missing eye.

"Okay, from the top, my name is Markus Fredericksen, I am 23 years old, I am the leader of Group 24, an organisation specializing in high payday thefts and protection. I have no friends, only people I meet. I have no country, only visits…" he starts, saying it like he has membered it for a long time. I am confused at this, sudden release of sensitive information from him. I put the needle back on the ground and try to move away slowly so he doesn't notice.

"Don't get up, I need you beside me." He says calmly, like he doesn't want his mom to be away from his side. I'm no mother; I couldn't even imagine myself being with a girl anyway. I don't move away and we sit together silently, as silent as you can get with the loud hum of the propellers in the background.

"It's fine, I'm just resting." He says out of nowhere, still with the motionless head resting in it's stationary position. I look up towards the closing door at the front. I didn't hear a thing from the door. Just the light suddenly turning to black that I now notice as my head looks up from his face for just a second.

"When you go away from me, please remember me." He asks. I don't like making such long promises. I figure that I'll never see him again so there is no real danger.

"Okay." I say, still confused about what his intent is considering he was about to torture me before.

"Thank you, just let me stay here, let my undone years leave me slowly, but with dignity."

This has completely reversed my perception of him; first he was hungry for death, now he is closer. I don't think he would die from such a wound but from the sound of his voice he seems only reserved for it, and I caused this. I can't help feel some responsibility for this as much as I try to find a reason not to. I am still trapped inside here for the next hour or so there is no choice.

"You're not dying." I say, trying to show him that he is not dying. But he sits motionless, waiting for it to come to him, like he has lost all hope in anything and everything.

"You don't know the feeling of losing something from you, now I will never steal again." He moans, still not moving.

"It's not all lost, at least you're not dead." I say.

"What's the difference? Without thieving, I'm nothing, just like a normal person. I can see it now," He closes his eyes and envisions this vision. "The bustling street where I wear a suit and fade into anonymity; I'll lose all aspects of myself. The plain black suit makes me one of them, I'll be submitting myself to the whims of those whose grasp I have been avoiding all this time." I seems that he has thought this through more deeply than I have. I need not consider such outlandish prospects for myself, not while I'm whole, not while I have Sly. I consider the parallels. But they are only perpendicular, Sly would never submit himself to that sort of monotony.

"Why don't you get back up and go to your friends?" I suggest, he is doing nothing productive being here.

"What's the use?" He asks philosophically. I have had enough of his whining, it's driving me insane.

"Just get up." I say flatly, the change in somber tone is a shock to him. Like he sense that something is up.

"Wha? I thought we were together man. Tight like the lid on a tomato sauce bottle!" He bellows. Only then I realise what has made him in this mood. I remember the secret ingredient that I put into the sleep concoction; maybe it worked too well. It removed the pain and left the aftertaste as well. He does look a bit drugged now that I look at him again. His mouth smiling now for no apparent reason. I think that now is the time he gets back to his friends whether he likes it or not. I walk past him and towards the door where the bass is still pumping the same as it was before. I hesitate about knocking on the door, but I have to do it. I knock and the music stops, this can't be good. The door opens slightly.

"Markus, is that you, where have you been?" She asks from inside the cabin. I stay silent. Not wanting to be on the receiving end of a 23 on 1 beating. She shuts the door and I wait for a small amount of time before I knock again, this time I stand in full view.

"Markus, stop fooling around." She says with a slightly flirty tone.

"It's me." I say. My nasally voice sounds nothing like his.

"What do you want?" he asks, aggravated that I have disturbed her.

"Uh, Markus has um, had an accident, and he needs to be taken back here, I can't carry him, so um, can you please help me out?" I ask.

"What has he done this time?" She asks to herself as she walks out of the room. As she walks past I can only feel a sense of dread that come when things are inevitably going to take a wrong turn. I try to catch up but she is much fitter than I am. She is in shock when she sees him lying on the floor.

"Markus, stop playing dead and come back here." She asks.

"Sammy, what a, a beautiful surprise from the heavens. Isn't life just, perfect sometimes?" He starts. She walks closer to him then see the bandage over his eye, along with the pool of blood that lies next to him.

She gets taken back by this sight. She rushes to him to comfort him, I just hide from behind one of the crates so I don't ruin this moment for them. I see her looking around for me but she has lost sight of me.

"Wherever you are I'm going to get you for this!" She shouts around the plane. I now fear for my life more than ever. She rushes from section to section to find me.

"He's good, don't get him please." He says from his helpless position.

"Listen to yourself, you don't sound normal at all. Neither is plucking out one of your eyes. That little geek is going to pay!" She shouts as she moves around yet still not finding me. She gets closer and closer, Markus' futile cries for leniency are ignored, I have to stop this.

"I can explain." I say as I step out from the shadows. A knife twangs as it sticks into the metal floor between my legs. I immediately regret being brave but I have to continue with this ill-conceived plan.

"I don't care why you've done it, I care that you've done it. Now you will pay with yours. An eye for an eye." She says, taking out the knife from the floor and moving it closer to me. There is not much further I can go back. The metal ramp forms the back and I slowly move up the slope with her advancing closer and closer. Eyes transfixed on my face, the knife ready to strike. I see an advancing person coming from behind her and he reaches behind her and kisses her on the cheek. He works his lips into the side of her face and it slowly releases the anger from her. He has most likely saved my life, at least my eye.

"Let's go back shall we, maybe we can have a little fun before we land." He says with his arm around his shoulder. I can see her mentally try to break his spell but it is useless to her. Love is such an amazing weapon that I have no mastery or experience with, neither does it seem like I ever will. I seem them walking hand with one arm still over her shoulder. He has not recovered fully as I can see him stumbling and leaning into her, making her push back to keep him balanced. I just lie there, trying to contemplate how I have just cheated death.


	5. Relief in Turkey

**Istanbul, Turkey. 10:03pm, 5****th**** March 2004.**

The van rolls down that ramp onto the floodlit tarmac and like that, I am away from them. No goodbyes for me, just a quick exit, I could have wanted nothing more than that. My foot gets closer to the floor as the van races away from those other thieves. I don't know if they will come again, wanting revenge, but I hope they never do, death is not on my list of things to do right now. I turn out of the airport and the GPS recalculates the route and points me to the highway that leads northwest. I pass under one of the entanglements of modern civilization that are the criss crossing concrete arteries and veins of our world, which are the roads. The fully lit road along with the surrounding lights from the businesses and homes, which sit along this highway. It doesn't seem as if there is nighttime in the major cities of the world with all of the light that is being fed into the darkness of the night to counter its smothering effect. They can only beat it back so far, the night sky is always there when the sun sets and goes behind this point on Earth.

I turn left on this highway that joins me up with the original route that I was meant to take if I had not found this short cut. But I don't really whether it was worth it, having had to suffer like that. It did take out 2 days from my trip, meaning I would arrive that much earlier to save Sly and the less opportunities that The Contessa will be able to try and break their minds down and remove them of their desires to go against what the rulers consider to be right. I fear for what that may look like and feel like. Being conditioned and brainwashed into becoming a law-abiding citizen is vile and cruel. I fear for the consequences that it would cause inside anyone that receives this. Sure, it would look good on the results and statistics for her. But they don't reveal the cost. My thoughts turn to actions as I continue to move away from Istanbul and try to find a place to rest. I had planned to sleep on the plane and then continue through the night where I could maybe push the van a little harder across Europe, but that plan has gone out of the proverbial window. I turn off the main highway and drive a small distance away into a small town a kilometer for the highway. It is there where I try to sleep but again fail as curiosity takes over.

I enter onto ThiefNet into to satisfy this new query about the Contessa's program. What I find are disturbing and horrific details of peoples inability to do anything that they once could, even if it had nothing to do with crimes. Swatting a fly that was puking all of freshly baked biscuits became an impossible task. Playing any sort of contact sport was gone either. Anything involving violence was taken away from them, all of it. They were lacking their own sense of being. They had become a toy of society, ready to slot perfectly into the framework of the model citizen. My thoughts inevitably turn to Murray, I suspect they'd target him first due to his low intelligence and violent nature. I don't know what he'd do without violence, without the Thunder Flop, without picking up enemies and slamming them into next week, without being able to drive the van with the same intensity and fury as he would usually. What would I have to loose? It would take them years to thwart my intelligence. I settle down to sleep finally since that jungle which seems so far away, for good reason.

**Outside Istanbul, Turkey. 6:29am 6****th**** March 2004.**

I wake just before the time I set my alarm to. I turn the clock off before its shrill tone breaks the morning silence. I look around the van, nothing seems to have been stolen. I look outside the van just incase I have been moved to some other place, that has not happened either. That is a good start to this day; it needs to go perfectly in order for me to reach the Prague by tonight. It will be a close call whether I make it tonight or the next morning, but nevertheless I need to make one reservation. I get the phone and input the number for a network some guys on ThiefNet setup.

"Location Bentley." The computerized response code initiates. It allows for any available safe houses in any location that i need. I have hooked it up to a database of known safe houses used by others around the world, giving us the ability to stay hidden while we perform our activities.

"Prague." I reply.

"Time?" She replies.

"Just for tonight." I add.

"Location and details will be sent shortly." She replies back. I added the voice recognition and reply voice as an extra; I think it's a nice touch.

A ping arrives on my laptop, the e-mail is on top of the inbox, stating out the exact location and entry code instructions. It even lists out thee features of the place, which are very minimal. That's a good thing because I don't like having any distractions when the job is on hand. Once that exact location is plugged into the GPS, I am off to the highway to keep on going. If I can keep up an average speed of about 130km/h for the next 12 hours I can make it there in the evening, the perfect time for a prison break, around the time of the changing of the guard. But if I factor in time to stop, eat and toilet breaks I have to go about 140km/h, which is over the speed limit. I will have to employ a 'clever' technique to get around the latest tool to catch out speeding drivers. The aptly named, speed camera. But me being in tune with the times and knowing almost all of the technology that is being invented at any time. It has been around for 40 years already and isn't anything new for me. Beating them is easy. I just load up a map of where they are, and just temporary turn them off when we are close. That way, Murray never gets a speeding fine whenever we are getting away from the police. And in no time I have arrived at the first of 5 border checkpoints. My passport is clear and I have arrived in Bulgaria.


	6. Slowly through Bulgaria

**Border crossing with Turkey, 7:43am, 6****th**** March 2004.**

What I see as I enter Bulgaria are the masses of trucks that line the road heading into and out of the border crossing. Hundreds of them just waiting for their loads to be checked and authorized for the crossing. I didn't have time to wait so a little electronic trickery later I put myself to the front of the cue. Just some easy stuff that drew no sweat from me. I am out of the congestion and into the highway system that should be trouble free and completely devoid of any major obstacles except for one minor problem. The route that the GPS has selected me to travel goes right through Sofia, the capital of Bulgaria. By the time I reach there it would be rush hour I need to make up some time elsewhere along the route. Into the left lane I go to do just that. I feel as if Sly is in sight now, tonight I shall free him and Murray from their captors. How exactly I do that is unknown to me right now, I need to get some recon when I arrive there before I take on this challenge.

**Sofia, Bulgaria 9:01am, 6****th**** March 2004.**

I knew it! I just knew it! I sit idly now on the highway into Sofia, stuck in a bumper-to-bumper traffic jam of monumental proportions. Cars, trucks and vans like mine are stick in this parking lot. I turn on the radio but inevitably it's in Bulgarian, it doesn't make a difference for me though as I have the superior technology to decode this foreign language into something I can understand for myself

"Имало е инцидент в покрайнините на София, закъснения са около 30 минути дълго." The radio says in Bulgarian as I turn on the translator program on the laptop.

"There has been an accident on the outskirts of Sofia, delays are about 30 minutes long." The computer screen reads out. There is going to be a long wait for me, time is relative. Everything is relative. I'm in a hurry to save someone's brain from being turned into mush by the Contessa. Everyone else is inconvenienced by this disruption but I don't think that anyone else is in as much of a hurry as I am. Technology can't save me here, I don't have some hover pack attached to the van to lift me out of this situation and back onto my planned course. But I have been in this game for long enough to know that the world does not play out in a predictable way that I would like it to be. Unlike computers, all the living inhabitants of this earth and indeed everything else has a certain amount of perceived randomness to it. In reality there are too many factors to consider when something like this happens. For example, how did that person crash their car? Was it their fault? What caused it? There will be an innumerable amount of factors that change and form this event, the event that gives many others and me the undesirable consequence of waiting.

I creep forward a small amount, slowing to a stop behind the small hatchback in front of me. I look forward from my position for any hints to the cause but I can't see anything from here apart from the seemingly endless line of cars that are backed up along this stretch of road. I can see the city and it's industrial buildings flanking this stretch of road, but that doesn't alleviate my problem. The next exit is in the city itself and that seems like an eternity away. A honk is heard from behind me and I look forward and creep further forward, only another 2 metres. But the honking doesn't stop; soon it becomes a chorus of honks that emanate from this stretch of road in Bulgaria. I look to the other side of the highway and the empty outbound lanes that are not being used. I think of the smugness that they must feel as they see us languishing stationary in this temporary parking lot. They would have seen what has happened up ahead. I turn my head into the back of the van and I cannot believe I have taken this long to figure it out. I figure that the traffic isn't moving for a while to I quickly dart to the back of the van and move forward the RC chopper so I can prepare it for immediate flight. The batteries are all charged and ready to be used as I open the window to let the helicopter out. As I do this I become self-conscious of the people beside me, especially the kids who I can see are watching me with awe and anticipation.

I don't look back at them; I register their beady eyes watching me out of my peripherals but my eyes are trained on holding out the helicopter and pushing the controller to maximum thrust. The wind rushes violently downward due to the spinning blades that whizz past at an alarming speed at such a short distance to me. The helicopter rises above the traffic and I can see some people's necks turn upwards at the side of their windows to have a look at this marvel that rises out of the doom and gloom of the traffic. All this in the slight turn of my head as I look towards the computer screen. I edge the van forward slightly as the honk of the horn indicates but I am focused on the helicopter and the camera feed it is providing me. I see more cars ahead; it seems to extend into the distance for miles as I weave my way around the trucks and along the road. After 20 seconds, I can see what the blockage is. It isn't what I was expecting. It is an overturned armoured van, I see a small crane being put into position on the side of the road, ready to lift the truck onto it's wheels and onto an awaiting tow truck. I can't see anyone inside of it, nor any evidence of anyone ever occupying it, it is only in an inconspicuous white and it is blocking all of the lanes. I wait by with the helicopter seeing the, crane slowly raise it's steel arm out so it can reach over to the workers who attach it's chains to the roof to lift it back up. I can see how the frame sags as the van leaves the ground and it's weight is supported by some chains attached to a cable. I see how the van shakes from side to side once it is up on the right side and how one person claps for their effort but retreats solely into the comfortable monotony. There is no broken glass on the road, no damage at all to the van apart from the paint coming off where it fell. Quickly it is dragged onto the tow truck and hauled away to the sound of ironic ovations from onlookers. I sense this is the time for me to bring the helicopter back towards the van before they all start to get moving. At full pace I fly the helicopter to the van and I see myself in the camera. I turn to the camera and to the screen to se myself looking down in the van but that is for later as I need to make up for lost time when I leave this city. I haul in the helicopter and place it carefully back into the van just as I see the brake lights turn off and signal it is my turn to move forward, not at full speed, but still moving nevertheless. I glance from my middle lane at the crane retracting its boom from the scene, it doesn't belong here. This gridlock still doesn't bode well when I go into the city and negotiate the inner city roads where this traffic will also want to go.

I enter Sofia still in heavy traffic but growing in impatience with every single red light that confronts me on every single intersection that I come across. It seems like the world is against me now, no matter how much I try to blame it on the traffic light timing. I try to calm down but it is of no use to me as the lights keep changing from green to yellow just as I approach them, every single time! After what seems like another eternity I go onto the boulevard that leads out of the city and toward the countryside. I think I am free from any more obstacles in my way, I can't have more, I will not have any more to face. It needs to be smooth sailing from here on out so I can arrive as early as possible to prevent any damage that they might take. I know that Sly and Murray are tough; they will not back down over such matters. From what I know about the mind, it would take many week to break Sly down, thieving is as intrinsic to him as could be and taking that away from him is like taking his essence and his very being away from him, leaving behind what would be a very confused and delusional raccoon.

I step on the gas as I get out of Sofia, hoping to reach the next border with Serbia in less than half an hour. I see more green hills flanking the roads built in their valleys as I near the border and re plan my timing for each of the borders in my head, mentally subtracting and distributing a time decrease equally across the next ones to account for the traffic in Bulgaria. I imagine that there is a heads up display in my head, that way I can visualize what I am thinking. I'll put that on my to do list of stuff to make once this adventure is over. Maybe that's the wrong word to use right now. It has become a saga of epic proportions, spanning the world, going back presumably thousands of years depending on the origins of Sly's lineage.

I hear a knock on the window and I look up. I see the border guard waiting for me to give the passport to him. I had become so side tracked that I had zoned out completely.

"Papers, please." He asks in a deep eastern European accent. His commanding bulk is only matched by his scruffiness. I hand them over, waiting for them to be processed. He returns after a minute, still looking at their contents.

"You're free to go. Welcome to Serbia." He says like he is forcing out a happy tone but I can sense he is anything but.


	7. Confusion in Serbia

**Chapter 7 – Confusion in Serbia**

**Border Crossing with Bulgaria, Serbia, 10:34am 6****th**** March 2004.**

Time keeps ticking and the wheels keep turning as I try to get to Prague as fast as possible without attracting attention. Still 900 kilometres to go though, but I can make that. I'll be there in the afternoon so I have enough time to set up for my nighttime rescue. But that doesn't guarantee anything in the future, as I keep thinking to myself, the plan doesn't work out how it is so I need a plan B. Okay, If I arrive at say, 8:00pm it will be a bit later but I think I will still have enough time to do it by tonight if everything goes to plan. If I get stopped in such a way that I have to go in the next morning, I don't know how quickly it would take them to break Sly or Murray so regardless, time is of the essence.

I suddenly get a chill down my spine, not because I'm cold because it's an indicated 24 degrees Celsius, but because I have a chilling thought, what if someone is coming after me? Surely they would know, surely they know about my relationship and me with the gang. I turn my head side to side quickly, looking at the occupants of the vehicles that pass by, checking to see if Interpol has secretly crept up on me and is about to eliminate me from the picture. If I don't save them, who will? I strain my brain to think of anyone outside of our group that would help us. I couldn't contact other criminals; I don't want to be in debt to someone who would use us as slaves for a some criminal war between rival gangs, stealing goods from who ever they want. Sly wouldn't bend double to such demands; he has to be in control of himself to survive. Sly couldn't work for someone, only _with _someone, someone like Murray and myself.

I wind through the green hills of Serbia in the bottom of the valleys that these roads are built it, it doesn't make sense to build them over or through for the government that make them who have to consider cost above all else. Once again, I come across a long line of cars moving slowly down the road in single file. I try to search for the cause of this problem but the offending vehicle is nowhere to be seen, I check the wing mirrors and more cars line up behind me, presumably filled with the same frustration that I feel right now. The van trudges slowly on in this very annoying situation when I see a form of salvation, an exit sign saying 'Crvenareka' to a B road, which according to my GPS is a shorter route than the highway but not as fast as I would have to negotiate with the city of Nis. I can see the arrows pointing to the slip road, which I happily take to escape this constant slow pace. I feel the freedom of being able to move at the pace I want to rather than be limited, controlled. I now see this road, it is barely wide enough for two cars to pass and look much more treacherous than the calm straightness of the highway. At this time I imagine what Murray would be doing, he'd love this right now, being on some deserted B road putting his driving to the test. I see him wrestling the wheel like a bull, manhandling it like he is beating it into submission but also with an edge of precision amongst all of his brute strength. I can't perform it like that, I lack the strength to turn the wheel with such ferocity, I lack the physical strength to do many things but that hasn't stopped me now from getting this far.

I begin this indicated 9 kilometre challenge from here into Nis where I will have to get out of the city and back onto the highway, hopefully in front of the disturbance to the natural flow of motorways. These bends, no matter how subtle they are, are straining my arms greatly, having to move the wheel one way then the other in quick succession. I try to go fast but not too fast around the corners. My speed is much lower than that of being on the highway, even with the slowness of the blockage. All these turns and undulations make it tiring work for me. I feel the van and myself lean from side to side after being subjected to such forces, my neck strains to keep upright and high enough to see over the window, otherwise I can't see and that wouldn't be good in terms of staying alive. I concentrate only on the road, only the next bend in front of me, how fast do I need to be going, are there other cars coming on the other side, so many things to do in such a short time. Despite my intelligence, I can't think of it all at once like Murray can. How does he do it considering he is… not the sharpest tool in the shed, he's be like a crowbar, very blunt, strong and can break almost everything. Somehow, all of this filters into his head and it produces the end result of driving perfection. Murray wouldn't be pleased at my driving skills right, now, for running wide at some corners, for not going as fast as I could have and if he was here, for not allowing him to drive.

I am relieved when I pass the final bend on my GPS and see evidence of civilization in the form of houses that line this small road. I spot something else, a small alleyway that leads north, the direction of the highway. From the GPS it's only 1.5 kilometres away and I'd miss the city entirely! I look down the side street and it is not what I'd call the widest or well paved. I see the gravel road with large pot holes that would terrorize the van to it's limits, perhaps beyond them. I try to look away but it's allure of being much shorter than that other option is tempting. My practical and conservative brain is pulling me towards the City, a place that is kind and smooth and not filled with potholes. I am about to put the van back into gear to keep on moving when I have a thought, a thought that would have never been considered by me before. I know that I'm not much of a risk taker; it's not my job to do that. But this journey has changed me that jungle has made me anew! On the spur of the moment, I turn into this narrow gravel path, not knowing exactly what is going to happen once inside but the rush that comes through me as I do this is both of complete rejection but at the same time I feel some excitement building up inside me, I feel completely on a high as I creep into the passageway.

I feel the bumps and slow dips of the van enter into and exiting out of the potholed street. I turn a corner and see some kids playing soccer on the street. They kick the ball into the window of the van but the ball is shrugged off and I see them dash off into the surrounding bushes to retrieve it. I feel like I'm an explorer, although with a van, not even when I was in that soggy jungle did I ever think that I was an explorer. I feel the urge to keep pressing on. I see a small problem up ahead. The gravel road has been waterlogged up ahead in this small dip where water would congregate if any were to fall. As a result, the dark colour of the road and deep tread marks suggest it is deep and viscous. I stop the van and try to figure out the best approach. I calculate the slope angle, the approximate viscosity, depth of mud; all of this goes into how I need to approach this, fast or slow. If Murray were here he'd go straight through that as if it wasn't a problem. I don't want to bog down the van in a hole I can't get out of. I see another vehicle come up from behind me and flash their lights to force me forward, becoming impatient after no time at all. Honks are heard as well as if they are in a rush.

I panic.

My right foot slams straight into the accelerator and the tires kick up lots of dust and gravel that flings onto the impatient driver's pick up truck behind. The van moves forward with amazing speed and flies down the short downhill and gets into the middle, sinking slightly into the mud. But it's enough to do damage, the van's front wheels lift off the ground and back down again to a lower height than I expected. Up the incline I still go with the rear tires forcing the crippled van up the small but steep slope. Once over the top, I see the main road that I hoped to rejoin, now with these punctures, I have no choice but to stop somewhere and get them fixed, wasting valuable time. I hobble to the main road and turn onto the road, trying to maintain the pace of the cars behind so I don't become the very thing that I had wanted to avoid before. Luckily for me it is only a short distance of embarrassing bumpiness to a garage. It doesn't seem like the friendliest place to be with the huge guys with outrageous hairstyles and oversized tank tops oozing over their thrice-polished rides. I pull into the service lane and up near the driveway. I ready the translator into its more portable form. I place an earpiece inside my ear, which is linked to a small microphone clipped on my shirt.

I see their heads turn to the van. Surely it's flames and low bodykit have attracted their attention. They come over to give me a greeting.

"Nice ride, too bad you ain't going anywhere with those slashed tires of yours." One says in Serbian but I hear it in English from the personaly vocoded female voice from the earpiece. They all burst out in laughter. I want to drive off but I can't do that in this condition. Their laughter ceases as one giant fox wearing a tough black leather vest and matching pants comes to the fore, the other backing off.

"You've got yourself some problems there, we've got some of our own." He says in a deep menacing voice. Implying an offer will be made.

"You see, I need some 235/85 R 17 tires to replace the puncture. I'll pay handsomely for a quick and easy change over with no questions asked." I say trying not to be nervous but inevitably succumb to these pressures. Luckily for me I have the other earpiece feeding me what to say.

"There ain't no cash around here, only favours pass through this garage." He explains, I dread what I'll have to do.

"What do I need to do then?" I say. I know that this is the only option.

"Petr! Do we have some in stock?" He shouts to the garage itself.

"Just got some this morning!" He shouts back.

"Perfect! You, my friend, are going to fix up some of the equipment in the shop, it's not been working well and since you look like one of those smart types, I think you are the guy for the job." He announces. Fixing machines, I couldn't have hoped for much better.

"Sounds perfect." I say.

"Great, just don't distract Emma." He hints. "Or we're gonna have to turn your shell inside out and shove it down your tiny throat." I pay attention to this last instruction.

He opens up the garage and I my hopes of an easy fix are completely dashed in terrific style. The oily and greasy floor is covered in oil and a hydraulic lift is completely broken, stuck at the bottom with a pool of fluid stationed at its base. I see how the overhead lift for engines and other parts is not much more than a complete rusted wreck. I see that wiring and pipes have holes in them, the paint degraded completely from them.

"You're going to fix…" He starts. I brace for the word 'all' to fall out of his mouth.

"…my computer, it's been really slow and I can't use it at all." He finishes, leading to a small office looking into the workshop. A computer, how easy could this possibly be? I am escorted inside and see this 'Emma' sitting at a separate desk minding her own business on another computer. That one appears to be working fine as her furious typing indicates.

"You touch her, you're dead." He whispers to me before leaving the room to go do some more hand polishing I assume. As soon as he is out of sight, she gets up from her seat and hands to me a sheet of paper with clear instructions in several languages. I look back at her young face through my glasses. She must be his daughter I assume but my eyes cautiously lower to the sheet of paper.

'There is no problem with the computer, I screwed it up to try to get a way out of here, hoping that someone can do something about it.' I look up and she points down to her ankle where I spot the zip ties digging into her ankles. I give a shy nod.

'Fix it by running the program I'll give you now' it reads and a small USB key falls into my lap. I pick it up and look back at her. She points to the computer. I struggle to think of anyone I have ever seen with such beauty in technology. I plug in the USB and in a few seconds, the computer is running as normal. I turn back to the sheet of paper.

'Are you in or out?' it reads. I look up to her for answers. She looks back at me, waiting for an answer. I hesitate profusely, I can't take on extra baggage for the mission, but I don't want to leave her here where she is being cooped up like a chicken in a cage. In the end I stand up from the desk and leave in silence, I don't know what she is doing behind me but I don't want to find out. I walk normally out of the office like nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"You fixed it?" He asks.

"Yeah, you got my tires?" I ask back with the aid of prompts from the earpiece. He steps back and I see the tires fully inflated on the van, ready to go. I don't say anything and just walk past them and go straight into the van. I turn the key as fast as possible and drive away quickly without making a mess of screeching the brand new tires. I turn onto the highway and go as quickly as possible from that haunted place. I don't realise it but my foot is approaching the bottom of the floor and the van goes faster. I become scared, not from the excessive speed but from the thoughts that keep trying to come back. I drive as fast as I can away from them, the knowledge that I have condemned an innocent teenager to whatever cruelty that is being done. All I keep seeing are my hands with her blood on it. It's all in my head but with the world fizzing past me like it is dissolving in front of my eyes.

**Some time Later…**

My eyes open, was it all just a dream? I hope so. I remember what I saw, but I don't know when or indeed the time it is. I turn around and get myself up from the slumped position in the drivers seat. I take a look around me, to see what has happened. I look for all of my items; my computer and my gadgets all seem to be there but are all in a pile in the corner. There seems to be something else as well, much larger than all of those objects.

'Oh no.' I mutter in shock. I turn back into the drivers seat and let myself breath in deeply, trying to face my extra cargo. I slowly venture into the back to take a look at her. She appears to be fine but how she got here is a complete mystery. I strain with all my brainpower to remember but for the first time in a while, it fails me. All I see is her motionless body, sleeping peacefully. I don't think that is the case, I search for what I believe to be the answer but nothing is inside.

I hear a 'tink' in my head, it repeats over and over, getting faster and faster by the second. It takes me over and suddenly I am back there. I see the needle being thrown out of the window, into the oncoming path of a truck that I see is where the 'tink' happens as it flings over the window and into somewhere else.

Then I am back in the present. I don't know what I was doing then, only the result.

I stop suddenly and look outside, having not known my location for all this time. What I see is a sea of yellow surrounding me and nearby, the highway. The yellow is wheat; I've crashed into someone's farm! I look around to see if I'm being faced with impending doom from a shotgun-toting farmer but that isn't there either. I turn the engine of the van on and try to move my way out of the dirt. It works but it's not ideal, I mow down all the freshly grown wheat in my path, making a beeline for the highway. Once I am back on solid asphalt, I look up my position. It says that I'm just outside Belgrade and the time is… 3:42pm! I need to get moving, faster.

As I enter Belgrade itself I head for the nearest hospital, I'm not sure if this plan is fool proof but it's the best I can do. I pull up into the slipway and I see some paramedics waiting outside, not for me but just waiting for the call. They come over to me.

"What's your problem sir?" They ask in Serbian. I open the van door and they take care of the rest. They some with a stretcher and lift her onto it. I look at her for the last time as she is swallowed by the sterile whiteness of the hospital. I shut the door and look through the automatic glass doors to see if she's there, I can see her stretcher, her hair dangling down towards the floor. I look away again and drive off and out of Belgrade. Heading further north towards my final destination has, for at least this time, taken a back seat. I'd never thought I'd think of it that way because Sly and Murray are just too important for me, I couldn't imagine a better life without them. It is completely silent as I keep driving forward, past Novi Sad and further north until I reach the Hungarian border, where I stop for what I expect will be my last petrol stop for this entire trip. I stand there reaching up with the hose into the fuel tank thinking about what has happened in this country. Such harrowing memories will stick with me, how could they not? It has been the craziest and strangest thing I have done since I saw what happens when I set fire to a large container of mercury thiocyanate without realizing it. The end result was, completely insane. The click of the finished filling is done and I pay at the pump, without needing to interact with the attendant. Perfect, as I need to keep going with as few distractions as possible. I head into the border control and pass through with ease. I put my foot down a little extra; I shall not be late to save my friends.


	8. Hungry for Answers in Hungary

**Chapter 8 – Hungry for Answers in Hungary**

**Border Crossing with Serbia, Hungary. 4:59pm, 6****th**** March 2004.**

I'm glad now that I have slipped into Hungary and out of that cursed country where too much stuff has just happened to me, so many crazy and completely unexplainable things. I'm still trying to figure out what happened to me before. I can't have mental blanks like that; it's not good for my image. I just hope to all of my hopes that I can just slip through this country as hidden and unnoticed as possible without any distractions or pauses, which would really be nice right now after such a tumultuous journey. I crave it almost to an extent, being able to just go back into the anonymity of the crowd and be just another person driving on the road.

The first 50 kilometres go by just as I would have wanted them to be. Without any hitches and making up good ground from the previous disturbances to my plan, what's left of it anyway. As Sly once told me once, 'you don't have a plan without plan B', I remember he said to me once when he was talking about his dad. It is perhaps the only other thing we have in common all of us. We don't have family, all of us the last or unwanted remnants of someone out there. But we are now are a family, as close as it could possibly be and it's all we ever need.

What I don't need now is another distraction.

All I can think about is that mental blank, just more in hope than in anything else, I'm just willing my brain to give me the information it is hiding from me. Somehow the details will come out, it just needs some sort of trigger.

It racks my brain tremendously, I am just begging for the key to relieve me of all of this pain that I am having, now Sly seems much further away despite me getting closer with each passing second. I can't be in this state when I have to break him out of prison. But all I can conceivably do is to just keep going and hope that the answer comes, such is the duality of my problems right now.

**Budapest, Hungary 5:53pm, 6****th**** March 2004.**

The sun is starting to dip down and the light is getting dim. I see the lights of a city turn on one by one as the light fades away in the east. The van continues to drive along in the predictable that I want and hoped for. But all of that quiet time is spoiled by the constant searching of my brain. The search for answers has yielded no favourable results, just like 99% of the scientific experiments I have done.

Oh great, more traffic, just what I don't need right now. I have caught rush hour traffic, if my plan was running on time I wouldn't be in the vicinity of any major city during this time. I slowly pull up to the back of the queue as the honking of horns starts up at their frustration. Everyone wanting to get home or to wherever they may be going quickly, not being stationary, it's so draining and boring. But those horns are just doing me in right now. They ring inside my ears like a fanfare of off key trumpets, yet it is what I've been looking for and just like before I am right in the thick of it again.

The blur emerges again, this time in the opposite direction as before. I just see myself going as fast as possible down the road, weaving in and out of the traffic with skill I have never known or thought I could have. I just see the black of the road and the different shades of the cars and trucks on the road all melt together and separate in a constant disruption of consistency associated with such a basic thing as seeing, my vision isn't that bad. I see that garage appear on the right with still the various tricked out vehicles parked outside. I hear more and more honks until they become unbearable. Then there is knocking against glass.

'Move!' Someone shouts. How long have I been here? I gather my perception and realise I am holding up an entire lane of traffic on this motorway. There is one angry truck driver in their torn denim vest sending carcinogenic smoke into the cabin. As soon as I notice his burly presence quickly rush into moving, changing gears like second nature and accelerating away in a cloud of tire smoke. I try to remember what I just did then? Do I have some amazing driving ability that I'm not even aware of? I try to think of how I did that just before as I try to change up another gear but the motion is clunky and jagged but deliberate, unlike it seems the previous motion. Now I continue on just as I have done for most of this entire trip, going along now as the sun sets on the final day, tonight, one less raccoon and one less hippopotamus will be in prison thanks to me. Not that I really care that much about the credit, I'm just helping out my friends and I'm sure they would do the same thing for me.

The sky to my right becomes an eclectic palette of burning colours, from the reds on the right to the dark skies to my left. I just straddle the line in between where the scattering effects give way to the darkness of insufficient diffraction of sunlight in the atmosphere. A contrast between two halves where one, in eventuality, is going to smother the other, only for it hours later to be changed again. Still I move further away from Bucharest with two things on my mind; what have I done and what will I do? I just want to reach into my computer and try to get some intelligence on the prison before I get to Prague but I don't want to stop, it's more like I can't do that though. I struggle not to think of what I have just done in Serbia, that only being hours ago, it should be fresh but a few hours is both a long time and a short time. More just thinking about what would have I done next after reaching that garage? No, after what I have just witnessed in my head, it's not what would have I done, but I have I done. I don't even know what I am capable of doing now beyond what I know. Once I do know, I will get the control over myself that I clouding the true reason why I am still on this trip anyway, to save Sly and Murray from The Contessa and to get the Clockwerk parts and destroy them before they can be reassembled into something so sinister and yet so fascinating itself.

How could such technology be created in pre biblical times? Judging from Sly's accounts, even during the Ancient Egyptian era is still possibility. I would so love to know the answer to this question, it could allow me to enter towards brand new discoveries to lead towards immortality, permanent rust proofing, energy efficiency and production, weaponry, so many things I want to get my hands onto. Sly would say no of course, he doesn't want to show it to me or to anyone else but I can sense that he doesn't want anyone else near the parts. He stored them in a secure location where no one could find them except for the parts in the van at this moment, the wings and the heart. The heart! I realise how dumb I have been, I have one of the most powerful sources of energy only metres away from me and I could have attached to the van to give it power beyond belief without needing do any tedious fuel stops. The source of such clean power as well, no need for nuclear generators or coal ones for that matter, as this could easily power a city I suspect. Such are the possibilities for these discoveries to be made that are so close but yet, geez I don't know what to think of it. It's Sly's 'delicate' problem to handle, it's his choice what to do with as facing Clockwerk, it seems, is his destiny; along with being the greatest master thief on the face of the earth.

What I my destiny? I wonder. Destiny, it doesn't exist in my opinion yet I talk about it like I have invited it into my clean house and it has knocked over a glass vase. It was just chance that we all converged on the same orphanage for different reasons. It was just chance that we somehow formed bonds too thick for anyone to break yet flexible enough that we don't need to feel forced all the time to appease one another. Yet none of us have a temper. I thought I was funny at least. It should be because I'm the one who's thinking of it to myself.

I check just to make sure that I haven't inadvertently stopped or disappeared into another world apart from the one that contains Sly. I shake the wheel of the van from side to side to see if I feel something from the small turning motions inside my lane. I feel the change in acceleration on my body go from side to side. I feel confident I haven't gone into another world. But just look at me! Do I really feel so insecure about my very existence and being that I can't even trust what I feel is certain. It just draws up a whole other discussion about the brain vat experiment and solipsism that I do not what to have an argument with myself. It will only add more pressure to this already difficult and confounding situation. What I really need are more answers to that mystery. I just return to that hopeful yet semi-scared state where the lack of anything just makes the experience progressively terrifying with every second passing. The sheer worry that what I have done is completely lost in my brain and unable to be gotten out or even worse forgotten. I need to find out what happened, I can't go back, I can't contact them. I will be found and tortured and cut and shot and eventually killed. I don't want my life to end under the wheel of some grease monkeys pimpmobile.

I am exaggerating a bit, I feel after I calm myself down a little bit. I'm safe right here in this van, safer at least than what I am thinking of. I just see what's in front of me. The over head gantries denoting exits, the tall light posts in the centre that dimly light up this stretch of motorway in a yellow colour that barely beats back the darkness which it is fighting against. Good thing the Bi-Xenon headlamps can go it sufficiently for me, having installed them myself. I take a deep breath as I see the last faint glimmer of light slowly fade away from my vision, somewhere around the world they will have this moment as well, just a little later on. I need some distraction from all of these thoughts. I turn on the radio at let it tune into the radio stations near me. The first one is just some news, completely not interested in that at the moment.

'Missing girl found alive after worried father started nationwide search for the 19 year old.'

I can't escape it at all.

I quickly change the channel to get some relief. I go through the various music stations; from jazz, pop, disco, electronic, finally I find what I'm looking for, just some good old fashioned rock music. I arrived just in time for a wondrous guitar solo, I can't help but play the air guitar, and trying to mimic the notes being played through the speakers. I keep the van in a straight line but I just try to play along with the music. I often think that it must be weird for someone who love electronic items and works with machinery and cutting edge technology that they would have to like all the new constant 'doof doof' music that comes blaring out of the stereo systems of some kids who thinks that their ear drums can't be broken. In truth, I find it the perfect type of music to listen to. In the same way that computers and machines are predictable and controllable, this is the opposite. It is my little indulgence of escape from constant order. I only allow this tiny allowance for chaos because, to an extent, it is also very controlled in terms of its still music being controlled by a computer and being modulated into sound by the speakers. Seeing a band live is something I'd like to do some day, although not a full-blown concert. I don't want my ears to have a stream of blood running out of them or have the big and muscly types just push me around and squeeze me out of the area. Maybe it's not the experience I'm looking for, just the music. That just proves how much I delude myself sometimes. In the space of a minute I had convinced myself I was momentarily free from complete control in the form of rock music but that isn't much when it is put into relative terms. Not when it is put into the context of what I have to deal with on a heist.

'Passport?' an officer says.

I look to my right, I'm already at the border and I didn't even realise it. I hear the boom gate rising after the passport is stamped and cleared, it sounds like it hasn't been oiled recently. Into the dark I go, in more ways than one.


	9. Searching in Slovakia

**Chapter 9 - Searching in Slovakia**

**Border Crossing with Hungary, Slovakia. 6:51pm 6****th**** March 2004.**

I drive away from the toll both in one world and yet I am completely transfixed in another, seeing the van rush back to the garage in what seems like a frantic and brazen entrance which seems like something I would never do. Going in such an uncalculated and 'carpe diem' style only yields unpredictable results. I just see the van with me in it mount the curb and fly up into the driveway outside of the garage. What am I doing? No?! I see myself pick up the dart gun and a stash of ammunition; I can only connect the logical dots. I tear a 'feather' from the Clockwerk wings, the alloy being perfectly sharp and strong, and I see myself wind down the window. Against all my beliefs, I manage to shoot several darts from the window in quick succession, all of them hitting their targets. I then see myself proceed out of the van and quickly into the completely decrepit garage and into the office, she doesn't see me yet but i can see her, I notice the silver metallic feather that glistens even in the low light. I have the tool for her escape.

And just like that I have escaped as well, back into the real world on the outskirts of Bratislava, the capital of Slovakia. Even on this ring road that allows me to keep on going without the burden of city traffic. To my right I see the typical civilization of small houses the suburbs, to my left I see Austria only a few hundred metres away. A barbed wire fence is enough for me to see the change in countries. Across the Danube I go and go from the new into the old side of the city, but it doesn't look any different from my isolated position on the motorway. Besides, the night makes it impossible apart from the tiny speckles of light that come from my right from the city. As I get further away from the city, the traffic gets very thin, leaving me with a virtually free side of the motorway save for the trucks which can only go at their maximum speed in the right hand lane. I just past them all by like they are going stationary, not that I'm speeding by a lot, I have the technology to thwart those who try to catch me so it's not a problem. What is becoming the problem though is myself, I just can't see what is important at the moment or even what is important. In the back of my mind I know what have done is in the past and it's what is in the future that I need to figure out. But those thoughts just cling to me like an unknown cancer, I need to find out about it before it is cut out.

Like the plastic ties that bound her frightened and surprised body.

'What are you doing?' she asks in English unlike her dad.

'Shhh.' I say quietly I turn my head to check to see if anyone has woken up or noticed me.

'Just walk out normally, no fear.' I say quickly as I see myself lead her out of the office and into an unfamiliar place for her. From what I can see, she is extremely nervous with trembling in her legs shaking with every step. I walk casually towards the van as if I have no worries at all. How is this possible? I think to myself as I relive these hidden memories. I can't just be completely calm in this situation; I should be more like her right now. But what I remember is what I an think of right now, just getting into the van and helping her into the back without anyone trying to stop us or anything, I see the blurred remnants of traffic moving past as if they can't see anything that has happened. I drive out of there doing a 180-degree drift on the way out to accelerate into the traffic, somehow.

Somehow I need a plan, a plan to get Sly out from the prison. All the schematics that have open on my laptop as I pass the city of Malacky are ancient, only publicly available blueprints for the prisons construction. Who knows what might have been clandestinely built beneath inside the prisons walls? Most prison break attempts have been from the inside out, not the other way around which is what I have to do. The walls are very thick as well, made from stone reinforced with concrete. No doubt that I would have to avoid that unless I can find something like a tank that could break through the gate or wall. But Sly would have to get out with me setting off all the alarm sin the place. Blurting sirens wouldn't be the best course of action when I am so close to getting them out.

It's what I think of next, the links of the chain are being put back together.

'Just stay quiet, please. I'll handle this.' I see myself say confidently. In the rear view mirror I see her turn her head away from me and slouch down further to stay out of sight. In the side mirror I see a police car with a policewoman coming towards us. She reminds me slightly of Carmelita. I wind down the window in anticipation.

'We've got complaints of some erratic driving from a vehicle that matches your description.' She says flatly. I hand out a cheque for exactly €237, the precise amount for this fine. I see her take a look at it, trying to find some sort of fallacy with it.

'Next time, money won't cut it.' She says as she walks back to her car. I drive off slowly without rushing, trying not to catch her attention. I check the rear mirrors just to make sure she isn't about to sting me further up the road. Now I check back on the inside to check on her condition. A pang of dread radiates through every extremity as I fail to identify her body in the back. I panic slightly turn around physically, only to notice she has snuck into the front seat and is using my computer.

'Can you please stop using that?' I ask, powerless to stop her from my position. She is silent as she types away on the keyboard, I try to see what she is doing but the glare from the sun makes it impossible.

'Seriously, I have some very important stuff on there and I need you to stop using it.' I plead. She remains silent as I drive on further, indicating that there must be a pause.

'Look, you're going to have to stop toying with it or I'm going to have to stop this van.' I see myself say. I feel just as shocked as she looks at this ultimatum, but I see her remaining more determined to finish what ever she is doing.

'You have 5 seconds.' I announce, the typing picks up the pace considerably.

'4…3…2…1' I count down. As I say one, she shuts the computer and places it behind her then sits straight, as if she wasn't doing anything at all. I can't do anything about it, all I can do is continue driving.

'Passport' she mutters under her breath, I wonder what that means initially, trying to find the hidden meaning to it. But my memory of her is a stark contrast to this woman who is serving me at this border post.

'Sir, I've worked all day…' She starts to rant. I quickly show my passport and she stamps it angrily. She opens the boom gate without any farewell; I go on into the final country of this journey.


	10. Double Czech Republic

**Chapter 10 – Double Czech Republic**

**Border crossing with Slovakia, Czech Republic. 7:29pm, 6****th**** March 2004.**

The final push, the home stretch, the light at the end of the tunnel. This point of the trip is none of those things. All I see ahead of me is more unanswered questions, driving and the finality of getting Sly and Murray out of Prison that seems an eternity away. Finding a way into the prison is what I should be doing right now, in a perfect world I would have figured it out much earlier and now I would be psyching myself up to face this situation. Right now, I battle past memories and jostle with permutations and combinations of what might happen next, all while driving. But yet I feel more confident of succeeding, somehow. It's a completely illogical and irrational feeling for me to have right now but yet it is happening. I am no closer to figuring out how to get into the prison but somehow I think that I can do it, somehow. At least I have one thing on my side at this point in time.

At another point in time however, I see her hands reaching for my computer again. I spot it out of the corner of my eye.

'Hey, stop it!' I command, feeling a bit agitated from the previous encounter. She slinks back into her seat and my eyes return to the road in front of me. I have no doubt that she would try again to lay her hands on the computer and no doubt access the files on it, most if not all of them being top secret and confidential. I feel on edge, just waiting for the inevitable moment of her left arm reaching around seat and into the back for the computer. It feels like an hour but in reality it was only 5 minutes and my patience has already run out, I see her sitting innocently in the seta next to me, I feel exhausted from the constant on edge waiting that took place. All I could consider thinking about is driving along, somewhere. I didn't even know what I was going to do with her after I broke her out of his clutches, it is the price paid for such ill planning.

Some time passes, in both times, as I think about driving in two worlds. Even in this dark of night, the moon still gives some illumination to the ground, not it's own of course, it's just reflecting the sun's radiation. But not enough to see by myself, therefore the lights are on.

**Brno, Czech Republic. 7:45pm 6****th**** March 2004.**

I make the 270 degree turn form one motorway and onto the last major road change for the journey, it feels like exiting out onto the final straight but that straight is more than 100 kilometres long, still a long way to go. Finally, I get my head in the right frame of mind for the task fast approaching. I reach over to my laptop and put it in my lap, I know this is very dangerous and extremely risky, but in these conditions of being completely empty motorway on a clear night, I allow myself the opportunity to try to get some research done quickly before the time arrives. I finally make some more contact on ThiefNet as my head switches from the road ahead to the screen below in quick succession as I try to multitask. While I do this, I receive the final instructions for the safe house, like lock combinations and locations of keys and other security devices. I find out the current state of affairs in the capital of Prague translated into English, however there is nothing that I could possibly work to my advantage.

I look up again, as I usually do; I swerve violently to the left into the next lane without losing control. The adrenaline hit makes me feel high and alert. I check in the rear view mirror, nothing is there which is exactly as I planned it. I was getting a little tired anyway; I could just be seeing things. I am slightly prone to that right now, or it could be that I am just trying to keep myself awake. Why play games with yourself Bentley, too many things are distracting you. I move the computer away from me and put it in the opposite seat just like before with the screen facing towards me. I notice something subtly different about it, something so small that it has to be different in some way but I just can't quite put a tangible definition to it. I realise what has happened.

I return to see her on the computer again; I remember the rage I felt at that point.

'Stop it!' I shout. She does something drastic, I see it now. Putting the computer aside, she takes her seatbelt off and opens the door of the van and leans out, ready to leap out of the van at high speed. She turns her head.

'You better cut your whining or I'll jump, you wanted to save me, remember.' She snarls. This is the complete opposite of what I she was like before. There is a pause of silence with only the rushing air ruining the silence of this moment. A small stand off ensues, with me trying to stare her out in the hope that she will stop, inevitably she does as I see her shut the door as quick as she opened it. I look ahead and see the reason why. A line of truck as sprawled ahead of us. I see signs showing that two lanes become one very soon. I look into the oncoming lane, it is completely clear. I see myself take the chance, foolishly in hindsight. I pull out into that lane and floor it, passing truck innumerable, still no cars are seen and my plan is working. I know that I can finally win at something now, but as I round the right turn around the road, I see a slow moving car going the other way, it is the undoing of all of us. She manages to pull the wheel across to the left faster than I can do it. It careens us off the road and into the field of wheat I first saw myself in. I remember nothing after the sudden jolt of flying off the road and down into a field.

Finally it is done and I can now spend the rest of the journey planning out my entrance without any distractions at all.

The sign 'Welcome to Prague' passes by.

I just feel again that the world is going completely in the opposite direction to me, like I am going against the tide in order to save my friend. I am the lifeguard swimming out into the treacherous swell to rescue someone close to drowning. I need to feel that confident as I was somehow was before, like in my memories. If I have nothing else at least some conviction will carry me further than none at all. I think back to the computer, what was she doing on that thing the whole time? Why have I not checked yet I wonder? As I stop at the first set of traffic lights in hours, I reach over to the laptop and find the old thing out in this computer. It is a file with no name on it. I open it without knowing what is inside; curiosity drives me over the edge. I see three things, two are the programs she told me about, the virus and the antidote that she used in the office. The final one is different, different but yet exactly what I needed at this point. Finally a piece of hope amongst all this doom and gloom. It is a text document, simply stating some of the things in the prison that I am going to be breaking into. I read through the small short paragraph as I continue in the night towards the safehouse.

'_Bentley, (if that is your real name) You may not realise it at first, but there is a lot more that you need to know before you do what you are going to do. I've read through your files and I know what you need to do. I have been in their, you may not believe it but when I was 15 I was in there for one week for accidentally hacking into Interpol. She was mean, 'The Contessa' does not care for your life, only the numbers of reformed prisoners matter to her. Even on my brief stint in there I saw brutal thugs turned into timid toddlers in days. I fear that is what will soon happen to your friends. They will be in the hole I suspect. But lastly, you need to know that breaking me away from him was amazing, and for that I can't thank you enough.'_

It seems too short; then again I was forcing her to stop violently.

I pull into the garage of the safehouse with the gulag like prison sitting atop its mighty hill, giving it sight over Prague. I know my friends are in there and I know with every passing second it means more torture for them.

Firstly, I need some recon…

* * *

**Authors Note (1st October**** 2013)**

I feel just as relieved to finish this as much as I assume Bentley would be relived that his memory is clear. I'll be the first to admit it; It's not as poetic or beautiful as I hoped it would be at the start. But I know now that I'm not that kind of writer. In any case, this has not put me off writing altogether. I am already planning the next major story but it won't be released for a while. In any case, for everyone who read it, thank you again.


End file.
